


Entropy

by elisewrites



Series: Beautiful Wreckage [13]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort Reading, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kitchen Sex, POV Rio (Good Girls), Parent Rio (Good Girls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisewrites/pseuds/elisewrites
Summary: As an individual who's made enough poor decisions to hold himself over for the next couple of lifetimes, he's concluded that it gets easier to make an irrational decision after the first time you make one.After the first affair of sentiment overcoming reason, there's less resistance from one's mind where the heart is involved.He figures that he'd started slipping long before he'd had the chance to catch himself, his unchecked feelings steering him down a path of reckless habits while reason took the backseat.The worst part is that he doesn't give a shit how far down he's slipped.He knows what the view is like from the top, and look where it's gotten him.A change in perspective is beneficial for most, anyway.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: Beautiful Wreckage [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387072
Comments: 20
Kudos: 113





	Entropy

**Author's Note:**

> a day late and a dollar short, but here we are at the final part!  
> i can't thank you all enough for your endless love and encouragement. i'm making a point this time to get over myself and start replying to comments, because i really want to and your support deserves to be acknowledged.  
> i hope that i've done this pairing justice for you all, but more importantly, i hope that this story is able to make you smile. enjoy!

For the better part of a half-hour, Kenny doesn’t so much as stir beneath his covers.

Rio checks on him twice, dipping his head into the kid’s room every ten minutes or so to find that his breathing has grown even deeper, the light rasps from before giving way to gentle snores that can be heard from the hallway. Rio keeps the door cracked, alternating between making some brief phone calls and casting cursory glances into the dimly lit room before deciding to peruse Elizabeth’s tea stock.

He doesn’t exactly expect it to be flush, knowing her preference lies with the bittersweet taste of coffee, though he figures she must have a few errant bags lying around. He scans the contents of a few cupboards and roots through a couple of drawers, grinning triumphantly when he finds a stray packet of green ginger tea among a pile of sugar packets.

Next, he fishes through one of the larger cupboards for a kettle, finding it shoved in the back of the one nearest the oven behind stacks of pots, pans, and other cookware. He moves swiftly as he heats up the stove, fills the kettle, and sets it atop the burner, leaning back against the countertop and retrieving his phone from his back pocket. He shoots off a few texts while he waits for the water to boil, keeping an ear out for any disturbances in the silence of the house. 

Rio whips up a cup of his go-to remedy tea once the water comes to a boil, hunting through the cupboards near her coffee maker for a container of honey and a spoon. After adding two dollops into the steaming liquid, he pulls open the fridge, pleasantly surprised to find two lemons resting at the bottom of the crisper. He grabs one, along with a knife from the block on the counter, and slices it down the middle, squeezing the juice out onto the spoon before mixing the contents of the beverage together.

The steamy aroma hits Rio’s nose like a warm kiss as he holds the mug close to his chest, striding back across the living room and up the flight of stairs towards the boys’ room. He eases the door open and peeks his head through, unsurprised when he finds Kenny exactly as he’d left him, his lanky, boyish form spread like roadkill beneath the covers. Rio smirks a little, humming to himself in faint amusement as he takes a few light-footed strides across the carpeted bedroom, dropping the steaming mug to the night table beside him. He observes the gentle rise and fall of Kenny’s chest a minute, listening to ensure that his breathing isn’t too off when he cracks open one eye, drowsily blinking up at Rio as he adjusts to his surroundings in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Rio?” He croaks, shifting beneath his covers until he’s lying flat on his back. He looks awful, to put it frankly—his bangs are matted to his forehead with sweat, and the lingering symptoms of his fever clutch at him as a shiver wracks his small form.

“‘Ey, kid. How you feelin’?” Rio asks softly, crouching beside the bed until he’s eye-level with Kenny. He props himself up on his elbows, sliding back until he can rest his head back against the frame of his bed and clearing his throat.

“Okay,” he rasps, and Rio arches a brow in disbelief at the way his voice breaks. “Where’s my mom?”

“Droppin’ your brother and sisters at school. She should be on her way back.”

Kenny nods slightly, then, his befuddled gaze wandering from the dark corners of his room to where the early morning sunlight filters through his window, shrouded by dark-toned curtains. It drops to his bedside table a moment later, a flicker of awareness lighting up his pale face.

“What’s that?” He asks, seeming to rouse a bit more as he studies the mug. Rio’s lips quirk into a fond little grin as he passes the mug over to Kenny, cautioning him towards its temperature and instructing him to take slow sips once it’s cooled.

His ashy cobalt eyes light up when he takes a few tentative sips from it, and Rio can’t help the broadening of his grin when Kenny, in his ill, fatigued state, sighs contentedly into the mug. 

“Did you make this?” He asks, shuffling against the frame of his bed as he settles further into his covers again.

Rio nods as he straightens up from his crouched position, sensing the muscles in his legs beginning to cramp a bit. He watches in amusement as Kenny takes a few more generous sips in rapid succession, downing practically half the mug before Rio is easing it from his weak grip and setting it back on the nightstand.

“Don’t wanna down it all in one sittin’. Your ma ain’t gon’ be too happy wit’ me if she’s hearin’ ‘bout a stomachache later,” he warns him, tone light and playful, and even though they’re both aware that he’s joking around, something new flickers across Kenny’s face, then—his expression seeming to shift and adapt under the weight of whatever’s crossed his mind.

“Do you like my mom?” 

And it’s said so suddenly, without any hint of a pretense to go off of, that it’s all Rio can manage to keep the reflexive foul language at bay, to bend his reaction into something less vulnerable—something less resembling a deer frozen in a pair of headlights by such a simplistically phrased question.

And, shit—if he can’t even explain the things he feels for Elizabeth to himself, then what are the odds that he’ll have better luck coming up with an answer that a grade-schooler will accept?

“What makes you ask?” Rio counters, folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands beneath them. (And, maybe, trying to ignore the thought that if Kenny were just a few years older, he’d know that answering a question with a question basically declares a checkmate in the game of bullshit.)

Kenny shrugs a bit, his thin shoulders seeming all the more frail with the exhaustion weighing heavy on him.

“She seemed happier after she first started seeing you at the park. Whenever we’d stop going, she’d get sad again—like the time when my dad said we all had to stay at grandma’s for a while.”

Rio sucks in a breath but holds his silence when Kenny continues.

“My aunt, Annie, talks about you sometimes, too, but mom always cuts her off and stuff, like it’s a secret. There was this girl in my class last year that my friend liked, and when he told me that he liked her, he told me not to tell anyone.”

When he’s finished saying his peace, he shrugs errantly, like he’s covered all the text he was supposed to read but doesn’t quite understand the matter of it. Rio licks his lips, his gaze flitting to the wall behind Kenny as he formulates a response.

“That so?” He asks, shooting for an apathetic tone.

Kenny nods a little weakly, his eyelids drooping like he’s moments away from slipping back into a feverish rest. It dulls the sharpness that had begun to rise in his chest, and a smile tugs at the edge of his lips when Kenny fumbles a hand out to his bedside table, his fingers curling around the handle of the mug once he locates it. He takes a few generous sips, fatigue weighing heavy in his expression before he passes the now-empty cup over to Rio. He pops an eyebrow at Kenny, a fond smirk stretching across his lips, and Kenny smiles drowsily back up at him before wiggling further beneath the covers.

Rio has only a brief moment’s hesitation before he’s easing the back of his hand to Kenny’s forehead, feeling the curl of his sweat-soaked strands where they’re plastered to the simmering skin. He sighs deeply, knows that a few more hours of rest should have him sweating most of the fever out. He flips his hand over, his palm making contact with his pallid skin, and he brushes a few strands from his forehead like he so often does to Marcus after he’s fallen asleep in his arms.

“Get some rest, yeah? I’ll send your ma up when she gets back,” He says softly, repeating the action for a few more moments. He listens to Kenny’s breathing even out, sensing that he’s already drifting off. Rio pulls away, then, tugging the comforter up a bit farther so that it better covers his small frame. 

Once that’s done, Rio lingers a moment longer, his eyes roaming over Kenny’s sunken features and finding a piece of Elizabeth in each one. He edges away a few moments later, a dull ache forming in his chest as he moves to take his leave.

For a few beats, it’s deathly quiet—the only sound to reach his ears the soft rasp of Kenny’s breathing as it definitively levels out—until the mechanic click of a lock turning resonates through the house.

Rio’s attention snaps to the noise immediately, his guard rising like a lever’s been flipped, though he’s fairly certain about who will greet him as he strides out of Kenny’s bedroom, softly shutting the door behind him. He keeps his step light as he descends the stairs with Kenny’s empty mug in hand, his gaze falling on Elizabeth once the kitchen comes into view. Her back is to him, her hands fiddling with the coffee maker, and he can’t help the easy smirk that slips onto his face as he drinks in her form, his eyes grazing over the dip of her waist and lingering on the swell of her jean-clad hips. 

It’s almost too easy, he thinks then, lengthening his strides and slipping behind her until he’s close enough to nose into her hair. He almost does, too, before he hesitates, unsure if she’s up to speed with his level of affection. Instead, he settles for a more discreet way of flustering her—reaches past her to slide Kenny’s empty mug onto the counter, deliberately brushing against her arm as he does it.

Elizabeth’s reaction is immediate—her body jolts at least an inch off the ground, her head jerking back so violently that it has Rio dancing back a foot or two. 

And she doesn’t yelp, exactly—lets out something more like a strangled gasp as she spins to face him, a delicate hand clutching at her chest. Her wide blue eyes are widened in shock for a moment, though they narrow into something more spiteful once she clocks Rio’s shit-eating grin. She shakes her head at him, feigning indifference as she turns back to the coffee maker. Soft chuckles spill from Rio’s lips as she pointedly ignores him, slipping a mug beneath the spout of the machine and pressing a few buttons until it spits out a steaming hot brew.

“Jumpy?” Rio teases, backing up against the counter opposite the sink before hoisting himself up onto the island. His legs sway idly beneath him as he watches Elizabeth, his mind wandering to a very different scenario that has her facing the counter in front of him.

“I’ve been conditioned,” she tosses back, and he smirks at the back of her head, humming lightly in the affirmative.

“Kids make it on time?” He asks, switching subjects, and it seems to be enough for her to give up her cold shoulder act. She moves to grab a container of creamer from the fridge, dumping a couple tablespoons into it before taking a spoon to the mixture and stirring. She sighs deeply as she does it, expelling all the air from her lungs in one breath, and it hits him again—the almost permanent state of exhaustion she seems to exist in that he’s all too familiar with himself.

Elizabeth scoffs a bit, bringing Rio’s attention back to their conversation. “Of course not. I had to give reasons for each of their individual teachers as to why they were late. I think I preferred giving a witness statement to my own robbery.”

He barks out a startled laugh before dropping his chin to his chest, shaking his head softly to himself.

“Yeah, they don’t play with roll, do they?” He sympathizes, his gaze tracking her actions as she spoons a bit of sugar into her mug. She huffs out a humorless breath of laughter as she stirs her coffee, shaking her head.

“I had to tell them why I was taking Kenny out for the day, and that ended up earning the other three a visit to the nurse to make sure they weren’t contagious. I had to wait in the office until they were all cleared—you know, just in case one of them spontaneously developed a fever,” she explains, her voice monotone, and Rio laughs outright, now, entertained by her account of the event. Elizabeth finally turns to him when she hears it, the affectionate quirk of her lips diluting the glare that she now regards him with.

When his chuckles taper off with a soft hum, she faces him fully, pushing a hip into the counter as she wraps both hands around her mug. “Everything go okay here?”

Rio nods, pursing his lips a bit in consideration before telling her, “Fever’s still bad, but nothin’ he can’t sleep off.”

Her eyebrows raise almost indiscernibly like she hadn’t anticipated that response. “He woke up?”

Again, he nods, his gaze unwavering as he watches her turn something over in her head. She casts a glance beside her, and he follows it to where Kenny’s empty mug sits on the countertop. He sees when something slots into place, then, and she regards him as such—like she’s pieced another part of him together.

“That’s not yours, is it?” She says slowly, some realization that he hasn’t yet discerned having dawned on her. He replies with a sharp twist of his head, and when the bewilderment in her expression doubles, he sighs heavily through his nose.

“My ma was big on tryin’ out home remedies when me n’ my sisters were kids—pressure points, healin’ touch, chicken soup; all that shit,” he explains, clocking the candid surprise in the draw of her brow and pout of her lip at the mention of his family. He powers on, ignoring it for the time being.

“Most of ‘em didn’t do shit, but she always made us tea when we were comin’ down with somethin’. Always made us feel better, so now I make it for Pop whenever he ain’t feelin’ good.”

He falls quiet, then, his piece spoken, watching about eight different emotions flash across Elizabeth’s face as she absorbs this information. She’s silent for a few beats, maybe more, before she breaks from her thoughts, attempting (and failing) to school her expression. Rio does the same when he feels his amusement growing more blatant, though he shows no more than a quirk of his lips as he watches her mouth open and close like a goldfish.

Her voice is small and hesitant when she finally asks, “You have sisters?”

And right, Rio thinks—that makes sense.

“Two of ‘em,” he answers, settling his hands in his lap and lacing his fingers together. If she wasn’t surprised already, his willing admission of this information does the trick. He watches it play out on her face as she writes these details into the outline of him—attempting to piece his story together.

“Are you close to them?” She asks, and he straightens his spine a little—prepares himself for the interrogation that’s sure to follow this answer. At the very least, though, he reasons absently, she hadn’t asked for any names.

At her question, he shrugs loosely, noncommittal. “Sure. I ain’t seem ‘em much lately, but we talk. We get together for holidays n’ our kids get along.”

He bites his tongue on slipping in the extra detail about  _ why  _ he hasn’t seen them much lately—that packing up his and Marcus’ life only to get shot the following week had set Mira and Celine so on edge to the point that, for a while, they would routinely ask him if they should be packing up their families too. He knew that there was more to it than that, though—after all, they’ve all known the risks of being connected to someone in his line of work since he’d fessed up about it over a decade ago—and it’s likely that landing himself in a hospital (because god knows that something’s gone dire when he ends up in one of those) tore open an old wound that’s festered since he’d admitted that he had no plans of seeking a different practice.

None of this information makes it past Rio’s lips, though, and he urges himself to return to the present rather than barking up that tree with Elizabeth.

Across from him, his eyes track the movement of her hands as they fidget with her mug, her fingers rubbing over the ceramic surface like it's a worry stone.

“Do they know —,” she starts before promptly cutting herself off. Her eyes raise to meet his, then, urging him to hear what she hasn’t said aloud.

There’s less hesitation on his part than he cares to admit before he’s conceding.

“Got tough to keep feedin’ ’em stories the more times I came ‘round wit’ somethin’ bruised or broken.”

Elizabeth looks a little wounded at that, her brows pinching with dissatisfaction at the thought of it, and, just—Rio doesn’t know how he’s supposed to unpack that.

“Do they know about me?”

The words take him by surprise—uttered so softly that he almost assumes that she’d spoken to herself. Her wandering eyes flit back to him, though, gazing up at him expectantly, and something that he can’t name suddenly twists in his chest at the sight.

He shakes his head once—answering her with nothing more than a curt jerk of his chin before he’s planting his hands on either side of him and hopping down from her counter. He closes the space between them with a half step forward, moving easily into her space and crowding her against the counter as she clutches her mug to her chest. It achieves the desired effect as the storm cloud of emotions begins to scatter from her expression, and he’s relieved to see that his proximity doesn’t unsettle her like it had months before.

He sees it better than he hears it when her breath catches, her fidgeting fingers stalling and tightening in their grip as she tilts her head slightly to meet his eye. It feels like manufacturing deja-vu as he tilts his head to the side in kind, his gaze dragging over her features like he’s done on more occasions than he can count at this point. He watches her throat bob as she swallows, turning a thought over in her head before it makes it past her lips.

“I’m guessing you didn’t come here for another game of twenty questions,” Elizabeth jokes, though there’s a trace of something sharp in her tone that isn’t quite selling the easy smile she pairs it with.

Regardless, it has Rio huffing out a sharp breath of a laugh, his lips twisting into a mild grin as the silence between them stretches until it’s nearly tangible in the air between them. It’s not tense, exactly, but there’s an undertone of circumspect allure that’s effectively setting both of their guises off-kilter. 

His tongue darts out between his lips, wetting them swiftly, and he feels a sharp warmth unfurl in his abdomen when her eyes drop to clock the movement. He takes it as encouragement before sidling in even closer, his face hovering so close to hers that when she tilts her face just an inch, their noses are just short of touching. He feels her warm breath on his cheek as her breathing picks up slightly, his focus suddenly narrowing on a piece of hair that’s fallen over her eye.

He doesn’t even try to help himself as he reaches up, index and middle fingers outstretched, to sweep it back near her temple. His touch is deliberately lingering as his eyes flit between her own, absently searching them as if they hold the answer to why he can’t stay away from her.

Her eyelids flutter briefly—only a hint of submission, but it tells him exactly what he needs to know.

Lifting his chin a fraction, Rio sets his lips to her ear, his nose brushing against her temple as he breathes in the scent that’s uniquely her.

“You know me, mama. I love games,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear in time with his words. Time seems to stall when he feels a shiver work its way down her spine, and before he realizes it, he’s reaching one hand out for her mug while the other settles at her jaw, guiding her face to meet his.

Her lips are soft when they meet his—as plush and sweet as the first time he’d gotten to taste them, and the memory of it feels like a reminiscence from a lifetime ago.

Their lips mold together as Rio drops a hand to grip at Elizabeth’s waist, pressing her into the counter when she slots her hips with his own. She empties a low hum into his mouth as she deepens the kiss, raising a hand to clutch at the nape of his neck and pull him in closer. He gives her waist a light squeeze as he licks past her teeth, his unoccupied hand settling at the base of her neck with his thumb resting firmly over her collarbone.

The noise she lets out when he slips his thigh between her own has his dick twitching in the confines of his jeans, but he puts his discomfort on hold as he breaks the kiss to drop his lips to her snowy neck. She shivers at the contact as he drags his lips from the hollow point above her collarbone to her pulse point, barring his teeth against the skin there and nipping gently. This elicits a gasp from her as she shifts her hold on him from the nape of his neck to the crown of his head, her nails raking across his scalp with just enough pressure to make him bite a little harder.

He detaches his lips from her neck when he can sense her squirming against him, pulling back to admire his handiwork in the red blotch that stands out starkly from the rest of her pale neck. 

See now, Rio will be the first to admit that hickeys are among the least mature of his fixations when it comes to Elizabeth. In moments like this, though—when all he can focus on is the pout of her lower lip, the hooded look of her eyes, and the heaving of her chest as she works to catch the breaths that  _ he’s _ stolen from her—marking her skin in a way that’s counterpart to all the ways she’s marked his heart seems too thrilling to turn down.

When his gaze returns to hers to find the burning marks of lust in her bright blue irises, he thinks that maybe they’re more in tune with one another than he gives either of them credit for.

The moment is shattered by Elizabeth when she lowers a hand between them, her fingers brushing over his cock so lightly that his hips jerk towards her touch. He swallows thickly as she cups him through his jeans, squeezing once, then twice, before raising her gaze to meet his again. Her touch sends all of his senses into overdrive, and he’s just as conscious of the way his breathing quickens as he is of the grip he’s still got on her waist, the material of her mama sweater so delicate that he’s afraid his touch will burn a hole right through it.

Elizabeth holds his gaze steadfast as she traces him through the denim of his pants, her strokes growing more deliberate and confident as she studies the reactions playing out across his face. He hums lowly as his patience thins into a thread of silk, and he’s seconds away from prying her hands off of him so that he can get his own on her when she begins to fumble with his belt buckle, her other hand dropping to assist the first. He tightens his grip on her waist as she yanks the leather from his belt loops, tossing it carelessly to the floor before flicking the button of his jeans open.

It’s almost startling, then—the swift assurance guiding her every move as she shoves his jeans, followed by his boxer briefs, down over his thighs. 

Then, Elizabeth drops to her knees.

Rio’s breath hitches in his throat as she braces one hand against the bare skin of his hip, her gaze downcast and focused on her actions as she grips his hard cock in the other. He throws a hand out in front of him as his muscles jump beneath her touch, finding purchase in the edge of the countertop as his fingers curl beneath it. 

She strokes his full length a few times, her hand delicate and soft around him, and his eyes are already halfway shut when he catches sight of her head lowering to his groin.

Dart quick, he drops his free hand to her shoulder, stalling her movement, and her eyes are wide when she blinks up at him with a confused gaze.

She clears her throat lightly, hesitation bleeding into the breathy tone of her voice when she asks, “You don’t want me to?” And shit, he thinks—that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“You ain’t gotta,” he answers instead, and she’s quiet for a moment—her lips parting wordlessly as the heat in her gaze intensifies and the determination in them solidifies.

“I know,” she responds, resolution ringing clear from the brief syllables, and he’s fairly certain he’s not even breathing when she lowers her head again, his hand still clutching lightly at her shoulder when her head dips forward, her lips wrapping around the head of his cock.

A grunt escapes him as her tongue drags over his length, her free hand wrapping around the base when she realizes that she won’t be able to take all of him in her mouth. Her grip on his hip firms as she sets an infuriating pace, her ministrations setting fire to every nerve ending, and his eyes drift shut as his hand drifts from her shoulder to the crown of her head. He threads his fingers through the golden strands of her hair, gathering as much of it as he can and dragging it away from her face. She squeezes him lightly at the base of his cock, barely faltering when he tightens his grip on her hair. He makes it a conscious effort to not strong-arm the pace that she’s set—wants to accept what she’s offering him within her own capacity of comfort.

She makes note of each reaction that she draws from him, responding in kind with more assuredness in place of her lingering hesitance. When her tongue grazes over a particularly sensitive spot beneath the head of his cock, she flattens her tongue, roughening the pressure as she tracks back over the same area just to hear the guttural hum it draws out of him. When her hand drops from his cock to lightly knead his balls, she shifts her grip to better cup him so that he groans a bit louder. The sensations she’s providing him are quick to stoke a roaring fire in his lower belly, and it really is unfair—how much the passion in her determination unravels him.

It’s no easy feat of self-restraint when he moves to ease her off of him, murmuring a few coaxing words of explanation amidst the fog of lust shrouding his thoughts. She’s as stubborn as always, though, tightening her lips around him and sucking harder as his head drops forward with a strangled grunt.

“Elizabeth,” he says hoarsely, desperately, his grip on her hair tightening against her scalp. If anything, her pace quickens, the fingers curled at his hip now digging into the skin there as her tongue roughens against the head of his cock. There’s urgency in her touch like she’s determined to take him over the edge, but he finds that he doesn’t want that. Not when he could have it with her.

In one swift motion, he releases his grip on both her hair and the counter, freeing his hands to clutch at her elbow and jaw as he hauls her to her feet again. Her eyes are level with his again when she rises to her full height, their breathing heavy enough to mingle in the limited space between them. There’s a glint of defiance in her gaze that he isn’t quite sure what to do with, but he isn’t given much time to think on it before her voice breaks through the silence.

“I want to make you feel good,” she murmurs softly, her face so close to his that he can feel the words on his skin even as they settle lower within him. He can feel the thread of patience in him thinning with every second that his lips aren’t on hers, and he doesn’t really realize he’s doing it when he shifts his thumb from her jaw to her lower lip, brushing over it in soothing sweeps.

“Believe me, darlin’, you have,” Rio rasps, feeling his arousal engulf him like an open flame as her unwavering gaze holds his own. “But, see, I learned a lot from havin’ you as a partner.”

Elizabeth squints at him, then, attempting to read his intentions by deciphering his expression. He pauses just long enough to see the familiar flame of righteousness spark in her gaze.

“You ain’t too good at splittin’ the work,” he tells her, applying a slight, commanding pressure to her lip with his thumb when her mouth opens to dispute his words. 

He waits a moment, taking her silence as compliance as her warm breath grazes the pad of his thumb. Her blue eyes are wide with anticipation, locked on his with such intensity that he thinks he might unravel.

His words aren’t much more than a low rumble when he finally says, “So, now, this is me helpin’.”

He barely catches the startled recognition that flashes across her expression as his mouth descends on hers again, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip when she gasps against him. He immediately deepens the kiss with his one hand clutching her jaw a bit firmer; his free hand shoves at the waistband of his jeans, dropping them to the ground and shucking out of them in a haste. 

Elizabeth whimpers against his lips, emptying every breathy noise into his mouth as his tongue works over hers at a feverish pace. Rio’s hand lowers to the waistband of her pants, his fingers fumbling with the button until both of her hands come to his aid. As soon as her fly is undone, Rio is dropping both of his hands to her waistband and shoving her pants to the floor. She empties a shaky breath into his mouth as she steps out of them, kicking them away as she winds her arms around his shoulders and links her fingers together at the tip of his spine. She pulls him even closer, urging him to dip his head so that her lips can better meet his. He complies eagerly, reveling in the way his kisses leave her breathless as he smooths his hands over the backs of her thighs, bending at the knees and using the leverage to lift her off the ground.

Elizabeth tears her mouth from his with a startled gasp, her grip on his neck tightening as Rio flattens his hands against the backs of her thighs, clutching at them and urging her to wrap her legs around his hips before he’s crashing his mouth onto hers again. He staggers a bit when he steps away from the counter, but quickly recovers when she locks her ankles, tightening her hold on his hips. He walks them in the direction of the mudroom and presses her into the doorframe, positioning them so that the staircase sits just out of view.

Rio releases his hold on one of her legs to drop a hand between them, yanking Elizabeth’s panties to the side and lining himself up in one swift motion. He groans into her chest, the sound strangled and hoarse, when he feels how wet she is already, the head of his cock nudging at her entrance. She mirrors the sentiment, burying her face in his neck as a choked moan tumbles from her lips. He braces more of her weight against the doorframe, his hold on her now haphazard and unbalanced as one of her legs dangles uselessly beside his hip, but he doesn’t think that either of them really gives a damn about that right now.

And he wanted to take it slower, wishes that he’d warmed her up a bit first, but he can sense the skinny thread of patience dwindling in them both, and he doesn’t need any further prompting when the hand at his neck tightens slightly so that her nails bite into his skin. He pushes into her in one sharp thrust, his fingers gripping the flesh of her thigh tighter when she squirms in his grip, wriggling back into the wall as he buries himself to the hilt.

Her erratic breaths are warm and wet against the skin of his neck as he gives her a moment to adjust, her hands scrambling for purchase along his shoulders while her one leg tightens around his hip. He leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses across the exposed skin of her neck, biting at the swell of her breast where the material of her sweater covers it. She keens hoarsely, attempting to smother the sound against his skin, and he curls his free hand around the back of her neck as he pulls back just enough to meet her gaze. It feels as if he’s diving head-first into an open flame when she nods frantically at him, her gaze the only thing that’s steady as she braces for him to start moving.

Rio pulls nearly the whole way out before plunging back into her in one firm thrust, his last-ditch of restraint crumbling when Elizabeth practically clings to him. He begins to fuck her at an erratic pace, his gaze locked on hers as she tightens her grip on his neck and he’s hissing in reply, her nails like pinpricks against his skin. She just watches him, then—her brows furrowed, eyes hooded, full lips parted with each breathy hum slipping past them, and all at once he’s consumed by the need to feel her lips on his again.

The fingers around her neck curl a little firmer as he captures her mouth with his, swallowing the noises that escape her until the slap of his hips against hers creates a steady rhythm of flesh meeting flesh. Elizabeth deepens the kiss immediately, licking past his teeth as one of her hands glides from his neck to his face, cupping just below his jaw to hold him steady even as she shifts against him, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts as best she can in her position. The hand at her neck slips down between them to rub furious circles at her clit, and when a strangled cry escapes her, he swallows that up, too.

She clenches tight around him once he’s buried in her again, and any semblance of a rhythm that they’d established quickly begins to unravel, heat licking over every one of his nerve-endings and causing the air between them to balloon with tension until every breath he takes feels stolen and precious. He spreads her wetness over her clit as he widens his circles, drawing out the friction until she’s clawing at his shoulders through his shirt and digging her heel into his ass, trying to steel herself against him as her pleasure hits its peak.

And it’s different now than it was in her bedroom the other night—they don’t have as much time as they did then to drag it out now, and he knows that he’s the only thing keeping her from darting up those stairs and resuming her motherly role. There’s more to it, though—the way she’s lowered her guard for him effortlessly, willingly, as she clings to him now, and he can hear the gratification in the curve of her lips against his, in her grip on his neck, firm and possessive, as she gives herself to him, all the guilt and remorse that she’s carried with her for the better part of a year now falling away until the only thing left between them is this moment, and every moment to come after it.

Elizabeth pants softly against his lips as he works her through her high, her walls pulsing around his cock and drawing a guttural noise from deep in his chest. He feels her pull away from him and he blinks his eyes open, a little dazed, to see her rest her head back against the wooden doorframe, peering down at him through the fan of her lashes. 

“Please. I want to feel you,” she coaxes hoarsely, her voice barely above a whisper, and shit, he fleetingly wonders if she has any goddamn clue what her words do to him. Her eyes aren’t on him for much longer after that as he sucks in a breath, sliding his free hand up to grip the side of her neck before he sharpens his thrusts, the slap of his hips against hers drawing gasp after gasp from her as she tips her head back and clenches her eyes shut.

He drops his mouth to her collarbone as he chases after his peak, leaving wet kisses over and around it before taking the skin of her clavicle between his teeth and biting down gently. He hears her moan above him, feels her hand when it moves to grip at the back of his head, and he just—just feels  _ her,  _ all of her, flooding every one of his senses until nothing else feels real except  _ her,  _ here, unraveling in his arms.

Elizabeth chokes on a gasp as she tightens around him, determined to send him over the edge after her and this time, Rio is willing to adhere to her stubbornness. His muscles seize as the rolling waves of his orgasm crash over him, pulling him under like a riptide, and he buries himself as deep as he can as he begins to spill inside her. He groans against her skin as he stills against her, pouring his last shred of strength into supporting their combined weight so that he doesn’t crush her between him and the wall.

Slowly, gently, she smooths the hand she’s got resting at the crown of his head down the back of his neck, linking both of her hands together, and her gaze is trained steadily on him when he pries his eyes open again. He’s still attempting to catch his breath, feeling partially boneless even as he draws Elizabeth closer to him with one hand still gripping her neck and the other clutching the leg hanging limply beside his hip. She doesn’t seem much better, although her attention seems to be sharper than his, her gaze burning with lust and a bit of enthrallment, too. He’s trying to decipher it when she lifts her head off the wall and leans in, exhaling a shaky sigh as she rests her forehead against his.

Rio releases a heavy breath, too, succumbing to the pocket of blissful repose that she’s created as his index and middle fingers graze the side of her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear from where it’s slipped free. Elizabeth giggles a little then, almost conspiratorially, and the sound doesn’t surprise him nearly as much as the warmth that blooms in his chest when he hears it. Something tightens in it, too, while he’s gazing into those wide ocean eyes—it feels similar to the sensation of nostalgia, as though urging him to encapsulate this moment for a later time when it’s no more than a memory.

He finds himself mimicking the notion, though, huffing out a semblance of laughter against her lips before the moment is inevitably broken, the cramping of her muscles (if the flex of her thigh against his palm is anything to go by) and the softening of his cock inside her persuading them to finally separate. 

He lifts her off the wall and pulls out, stepping back just enough for her to be able to regain her footing before carefully lowering her to the ground. Subconsciously righting her sweater with one hand, Elizabeth casts a glance to her left, and Rio observes her expression with mild amusement as she takes in the disordered evidence of the kitchen in the strewed clothing littering it. His amusement only mounts when her gaze flits back to him, her cheeks and chest flushed crimson, as she lowers a hand to the hem of her sweater, tugging it over the swell of her ass like he’s come upon her in this state as opposed to having been a direct cause of it.

And it’s almost too easy, then—the way every boundary that’s ever been drawn between them seems to blur together into one line that they’ve been toeing since they fell back into bed together, making it seem simple and inconsequential to step firmly past it—for him to edge into her space again, already yearning for the feel of her skin in the few seconds he’s been without it as he rests a hand on her shoulder, his fingers spreading there so that his thumb is brushing over the bright red bruise he’s left behind.

For a few beats, he doesn’t offer any words. Just watches the motion of his thumb sweeping over her sore skin, back and forth, as Elizabeth struggles to calm her breathing. Then he’s shifting his gaze back to hers, saying, “You clean up in there,” motioning to her bedroom with a jerk of his chin over her shoulder before adding, “And I’ll clean up in here, yeah?”

Elizabeth remains silent, motionless, for a few moments, observing him, her eyes darting over his features like she’s searching for an answer to a question she’s too shy to ask. It’s short-lived, though, and Rio’s breath catches in his throat as her lips curve up into a soft smile. She brings a hand up between them and tenderly cups his jaw in it, her thumb brushing over the coarse stubble decorating it as she regards him with an open, thoughtful expression. She tilts her head up so that their gazes are even before pitching onto her toes and pressing her lips to his.

The kiss is sweet; much softer than he would’ve expected from this moment, and when she pulls away, he can’t help but regard her with something close to awe.

Then, “Thank you.” 

Rio raises an eyebrow, holding her gaze as he curls an arm around her waist, drawing her closer and slotting his body against hers.

“For what?” He drawls, his lips cracking open into a smile when she breathes out an exasperated chuckle. Before she can respond, though, he dips his head and captures her lips with his again. The kiss is, albeit, a much more adulterated version of hers, a squeal escaping her when he bites at her lower lip with a little more pressure than is necessary.

When he pulls away, a little breathless, he rakes a hand back through her hair, lightly combing his fingers through it before settling his hand back on her shoulder.

“Don’t mention it, yeah?”

Elizabeth nods, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she reluctantly pulls away from him. She starts off in the direction of her bedroom, her footsteps light against the hardwood and he knows that she can feel his eyes on her as she goes, drinking in the curve of her waist through her sweater and the sway of her hips, bare and on display in the hazy afternoon glow that fills the room.

She freezes when she’s halfway to the corridor, her bare feet stalling as she spins back around, her gaze finding him even as his own lingers on the swell of her ass where her sweater has ridden back up. He can see that she’s turning a thought over in her head, deliberating over something that she hasn’t let him in on, but the moment quickly passes when she drops her hands to the hem of her sweater, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread they find there.

And, right, he thinks—she’s going to cover herself again or scold him for staring, or both, probably—and her hesitation strikes him as a little odd.

That is, before she grips the hem in both hands and pulls the material clean off her, dropping it to the floor beside her feet.

In an instant, the air in the room thickens, and Rio’s heated stare is nothing if not lecherous as it rakes greedily over her exposed skin, and it’s ridiculous, the way his mouth goes dry and his fingers twitch at his side, stiff with the fierce impulse to reach out for her. He knows she sees it, too, carefully clocking the reactions he wishes he could bury as she playfully kicks her sweater towards him, the limp material landing softly on the hardwood in front of her.

Then, she turns towards the corridor, continuing on to her bedroom without a word.

Rio swallows thickly, his gaze lingering on the hallway she’s disappeared into, unable to deny to himself how well she’s got him wrapped around her dainty little finger.

When he finally breaks his gaze away from the foyer, it’s to turn back towards the kitchen with a small, self-deprecating grin, shaking his head to himself as he dips to collect the pieces of clothing they’ve left scattered behind the counter.

| |

When Elizabeth emerges from her bedroom to seek Rio out in the kitchen, he’s fully clothed again, adding a spoonful of creamer to the fresh cup of coffee he’d been crafting for her. 

He swiftly stirs the contents of the cup together before grabbing both her mug and his own, turning towards the island to face her properly. He slides the cup across the counter to her in lieu of a greeting, leaning back against the counter to take her in when she wordlessly accepts it. Her strawberry-blonde locks now hang in a loose, haphazard bun at the back of her head, a pink tint to her skin from the neck down that tells him she’s grabbed a brisk shower. She’s thrown a different sweater on—one less form-fitting than the last and a deep navy blue in color—as well as a black pair of yoga pants, the material snugly showcasing the shape of her long legs. 

His gaze wanders back up to her face as she settles in at the island, wrapping both of her hands around the ceramic mug and drumming her fingers against the side of it. Her expression isn’t an easy one to read and he can sense that she’s garnering the courage to tell him something, though he’s cautious about what the subject matter might be. She takes a careful sip of her drink as they study one another, the silence between them comfortable, if not a little apprehensive as they both wait for the other to break it first.

A timid smile tugs at the corner of Elizabeth’s lips as she glances down at the cup in her hand, a pleased look passing over her face. Then: “Dean didn’t even remember that he was supposed to take the kids today.”

Rio sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers curling a bit tighter around his own mug as his jaw ticks absently. He reigns in the irritation sparking in his gut and redirects his focus to Elizabeth, who’s now watching him studiously as she thumbs the ceramic handle of her mug.

“He finally called me back when I was waiting outside the office for the nurse to finish up. I told him about Kenny’s condition, and how I had to get a friend to take care of him because his father couldn’t pick up the damn phone.”

Rio wets his lips briskly as he breaks his gaze from hers, attempting to steel himself against the frustration that’s rapidly building in his chest. And it’s stupid, really, that he’s getting so worked up over someone so insignificant to him, but, shit—he’s significant to Elizabeth, to her and hers, and that’s enough for his shitty behavior to set Rio on edge.

“At that point he wasn’t even listening to me, though,” Elizabeth continues, drawing Rio from his thoughts. “He took what he needed from what I’d said and ran with it. He lacks sense in every other area except you, apparently.”

“How so?” Rio prompts, feeling a little bit thrown at the vagueness of her comment.

“He insinuated that you were the one watching Kenny, and I guess I didn’t deny it fast enough,” she explains with a heavy sigh.

“Car-man holds a helluva grudge, huh?” 

Elizabeth fixes him with a deadpan stare as she lifts the mug to her lips, and that loosens the tension mounting in him at least a little bit as he exhales sharply through his nose.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. The kids have done a better job of getting through to him than I have, lately, so his threat of taking them from me has lost its punch. Last time he took them to his mother’s, Kenny wouldn’t talk to him for almost a week afterward. He had the nerve to call me in the middle of the night because he couldn’t get Jane to stop crying.”

Rio sucks his bottom lip between his teeth in reply, narrowing his gaze in on the contents of his mug in an attempt to distract himself from his frustration. The saturated tea bag is clearly visible through the amber-tinted water from where he stands, the bright afternoon sun filtering in through the window behind him.

At his silence, Elizabeth continues, “I guess I just hit my limit today. I made it clear that the only area of my life that he has any business knowing about is the kids.”

He glances up at her, now, his lips curling into a smirk before he can help it as he studies her with a half-lidded gaze. She shrugs impassively before taking another sip of her coffee, but he’s gotten better at reading her than he thinks she’ll ever acknowledge. There’s an undertone of pride that sparks in her eyes as she meets his gaze, and he mirrors it to a greater degree.

Amid the pleasant silence that settles between them, an unrelated thought occurs to him that has him grinning despite his best efforts.

“Your kid asked me somethin’ earlier that I didn’t have an answer to,” he starts, gauging her reaction as he takes a generous sip of tea. Elizabeth quirks an eyebrow at him, her features already pinching with worry as she tries to guess where this is headed.

“About Dean?”

Rio shakes his head curtly, murmuring, “Nope,” into the rim of his cup. The response only seems to ruffle her further as she fidgets in her seat, setting her elbows atop the counter and folding her arms in front of her as her eyes narrow into slits.

“So, about what?”

“About me. Wanted to know why I’m here, I’m guessin’.”

Her lips part but no words leave them, her brows furrowed with a look crossed between curiosity and concern. Rio continues before she can probe for a better explanation.

“He said you been happier than you been in a while. Asked if I like you.”

Elizabeth looks outright alarmed now, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as she searches for the correct way to reply. Rio watches with mild amusement, not bothering to hide it from her as he patiently waits for her to sort through her reaction.

Finally, she settles for asking, “What did you say?”

“Not much. Didn’t want to confuse ‘im while he’s still gettin’ used to havin’ single parents,” he explains, fully aware that he’s dodging the deeper implication of her question. She’s silent for a moment, her eyes locked on his even as her mind appears to wander, and Rio registers the shift in the air between them—when the humor fizzles out beneath the loaded silence that fills it. 

After a moment she begins to nod slowly, the action just as much an admittance as it is an effort to recenter herself. Her fingers curl tighter around the exterior of the mug, and her voice nearly sounds fragile when she says, “Thank you.”

“What’d I say, ma? You ain’t gotta thank me.”

Elizabeth smiles then, something private and dainty and unabashedly captivating.

“It’s for a lot more than today. For a second chance I didn’t deserve.”

It would be a lie for him to say that her words didn’t cause his heart to stutter, the sudden reference to their past unexpected and slightly jarring. Though, he supposes that there’s really never a time where their interactions aren’t shadowed by it. He reckons that it’s a good thing, her ability to speak about it so willingly now—it’s a fair testament to how far they’ve come. That there’s still enough ahead of them that it’s worth seeing what’s on the other side.

“You ain’t the only one who’s made mistakes, Elizabeth,” he says, his statement loaded with so many layered implications and threads of shared history that the compunction dimming her features eases into more of pensive reflection. 

She opens her mouth to reply when the croak of a hushed voice at the top of the staircase captures both their attention.

“Mom? Are you home?” 

Elizabeth’s head spins around so fast, Rio thinks she might give herself whiplash. She slips down from the island, making a break for the staircase with Rio a few paces behind. He falls back when they reach the stairs, pushing a shoulder into the wall as he watches her rush up to her son. Rio waits there, out of view, as she speaks in a concerned yet comforting tone, their conversation no more than an exchange of indiscriminate whispers when it reaches him.

No more than two minutes pass when Elizabeth comes back down—alone, to Rio’s surprise. She stops in front of him—though he can see her hastily mapping out what she needs to bring upstairs to Kenny—her hands clasped together in front of her in a familiar nervous gesture. Figuring he’ll save her the energy, he reaches a hand out to her, brushing a stray piece of hair from her eye as he speaks.

“Go take care of your kid, yeah? I’ll see you.”

With an affectionate smirk, he tips her chin up lightly before pulling away from her, turning on his heel towards her back door.

He takes half a step before a small hand clutches at his forearm.

“Wait.”

Rio turns back, his gaze meeting Elizabeth’s again. There’s still a trace of hesitation in her eyes, but it’s paired with something else; something warm, bordering on hopeful.

“You could stay, if you’d like.”

And, yeah, Rio thinks, unable to fathom any other place he’d rather be than here, with her.

“Yeah, mama. I’ll stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> here we are, at the end to an era, friends!  
> i don't even have the words to describe how all of the feedback and support on this series has helped me to grow in my confidence as an author. writing is one of the things i cherish the most that i get to do just for myself, and having this fandom as a creative outlet that i can grow from is just incredible.  
> i don't want this to sound like this is the last time i'll ever be posting, because that couldn't be farther from the truth given that season three is headed our way in less than a week. however, i've really struggled with maintaining a schedule for this series because there are many other things in my life that just have to take priority over it, and unfortunately, i don't see that changing anytime soon.  
> that being said, it's very likely that the majority of what i post going forwards will be individual works rather than long works like this one. i'll be keeping those under wraps in the future so that i can better divvy out frequent updates.  
> alright, it's time for me to fuck off now and get back to my schoolwork. if you want, you can find me on tumblr @elise-jupiterstyle and drop some prompts off for me to play around with! i interact with the fandom the most over there.  
> until next time, lovelies!


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